Entry tags:
On Looking Well
One thing that struck me after I bounced off the bottom in March/April 2004 was how many people told me I looked well. I certainly didn't feel well, and yes, there are occasions when the egoboo is what the doctor ordered.
There has only been one occasion - and that was back in exam season last year - when people told me I looked like shit and I should go home, retire to bed, do not pass go. I wish someone had rang alarm bells before Easter 2004, although perhaps I would not have heard them or believed them at the time.
There has only been one occasion - and that was back in exam season last year - when people told me I looked like shit and I should go home, retire to bed, do not pass go. I wish someone had rang alarm bells before Easter 2004, although perhaps I would not have heard them or believed them at the time.
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Hope you're coping ok now.
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Right now I'm back into the fray without having had any real down time ("You've had a long break" is the default assumption - when would that have been then?), with an impossible managerial situation, ongoing anxieties about dealing with my big bother, anxieties about parents (who are better than I feared, but sometimes the relief is simply the point the stress catches up) and so on. The actual trigger, or tipping point, last night was absurdly trivial, but I feel as if I'm on the edge again. I'd genuinely had a good evening, and was planning what should be a good night out, but the Complications make it ... complicated.
Mixed metaphor ahoy.
It's a distress flare. I think I've caught it in time. Again, it's almost as if having been able to relax, the shit catches up.
I think autopilot and overwork is as much a sign of depression as withdrawal to one's bed (and there have been an awful lot of days when it has been difficult to get up recently). I know I am envied my productivity, but it's come at a cost.
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Actually, I'm not sure I have contact details for you that are up to date anyway...